
Glass _£v^ 
Book_-i. "v" 






PRESENTED BY" 



I :;t^ 



THE SPIRIT 



OF 



OLD HICKORY 



DEDICATED TO 

THE 30rH DIVISION 

(OLD HICKORY-WILDCATS) 



LUTHER A. FINK 



■ 


pp 


■■ 


^^M 


■ 


- .^^fe^^^^^^^^Bi 


^H 


r^l^ 


IHpJH 


1 


1 /^ 


g 


^^^^ 


1 


H 



LUTHER A. FINK 
FORMERLY MASTER ENGINEER. THIRTIETH DIVISION 



THE SPIRIT OF OLD HICKORY" 



POEMS OF THE WAR AND 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



DEDICATED TO 

THE ENUSTED MEN AND OFFICERS OF THE 
30TH COLD HICKORY— WILDCATS") DIVISION 



BY LUTHER A. FINK 
FORMERLY MASTER ENGINEER. THIRTIETH DIVISION 



PRICE. $1.00 NET. PREPAID BY MAIL, $1.10; WHOLESALE 

PRICE ON APPLICATION; LIBERAL 

TERMS TO AGENTS 



COPYRIGHT APPUED FOR, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



GEO. L. DOOLEY 

PRINTER AND PUBUSHER 

CHARLOTTE. N. C. 



■T' 



-\\ 






:;; PRELUDE 

The Author was born on a farm near Pioneer 
Mills, Cabarrus County, N. C, in 1879, and received 
the old time field school education. He enlisted 
April 28, 1898, at Charlotte, N. C, in the 1st N. C, 
Volunteer Infantry, going through the Spanish- 
American War, with Company A (Hornets Nest 
Riflemen), and acting as the Army of Occupation 
in Cuba in 1898 and 1899, returning to the United 
States in March, and mustered out of the service at 
Savannah, Ga., April 22, 1899. 

Re-enlisted in the 10th U. S. Infantry in 1900 and 
was returned to Cuba and served six months, being 
stationed at Mantanzas, Cardenas and Cienfuegos 
during this period. He was transferred, while sta- 
tioned at Cienfuegos, Cuba, to the 10th Company 
Coast Artillery Corps at Fort Moultrie, S. C, where 
he remained for a year and a half, and was sent with 
his company to Manila, Philippine Islands, where he 
finished his enlistment and was returned to Angel 
Island, San Francisco, Cal., where he was dis- 
charged from the service, December 23, 1903. 

He was married in 1905 to Miss Edith L. Wil- 
liams, of Arlington, N. C. He obtained permission 
from the War Department, and again enlisted to 
serve his country in the war just ended, April 16, 
1917, at Charlotte, N. C, in Company D (Hornets 
Nest Riflemen), 1st N. C. National Guard; was 
transferred with his company into the 105th Engi- 
neer Regiment, 30th Division (Old Hickory; Wild 
Cat), September 14, 1917; the company thereafter 
being known as Company F, 105th Engineers, and 
losing its identity as the Hornets Nest Riflemen 
(Company D) entirely. 

He was promoted to Sergeant while a member of 
Company D, to 1st Class Sergeant, while a mem- 



ber of Company F, 105th Engineers ; also to Mas- 
ter Engineer, December 18, 1917, and attached to 
Headquarters Company, 105th Engineers, and so 
remaining until his discharge for physical disability 
from U. S. Army General Hospital No. 4, Fort Por- 
ter, Buffalo, N. Y., September 14, 1918. Thus ended 
his career as a soldier for his country. 

The Author does not claim to be a writer, or 
poet, and whatever credit accrues to this little work, 
give credit to the Patriotic Spirit of America (The 
Spirit of Old Hickory), and not to the writer. The 
Author has written a large percentage of the selec- 
tions on this book under restraint, and has left out 
many truths for purely patriotic reasons ; for he un- 
derstands there are bound to be many mistakes 
made in prosecuting to a successful conclusion a 
war on such a gigantic scale as the war just ended 
was based upon ; and he bows his head in reverence 
to, and cheerfully and patriotically acknowledges 
the verdict from his Government which says that 
his career as a soldier is ended, and that henceforth 
he must, support his Government in other ways and 
in different fields of endeavor. 

Reverently, 

THE AUTHOR 



INTRODUCTION 

I have named this little volume "THE SPIRIT 
OF OLD HICKORY," in honor of the men of the 
30th Division. 

This book is reverently dedicated to the men of 
the Carolinas and Tennessee, to each and every 
man, to volunteer and drafted man alike, v^ho have 
served their country in this great war for the free- 
dom of all humanity. 

The different selections depict the soldier's 
thoughts, his ideals and his actions under the vary- 
ing conditions a soldier finds himself in. Almost 
every selection comes from my heart, and tells you 
in real words how I felt about things, incidents and 
situations as they occurred and portrays pretty 
clearl}^ just how the soldier feels, acts and thinks un- 
der varying conditions, and views things in general. 
The different selections tell you of real situations 
and solutions of them ; of the real life and actions of 
the soldier under conditions as they actually occur 
in a soldier's life. In these selections you can view 
the soldier's life from its true angle and understand 
better, just what it means to wear the uniform, in 
war times. 

The soldiers of America were required to sacrifice 
more in the present war than the soldiers of any na- 
tion previous to the war just ended. Many will dis- 
pute this assertion, but I know it is true neverthe- 
less ; and I further know that no one can really and 
truly understand just what the soldier was required 
to sacrifice in this war, except the soldiers them- 
selves, and I am going to let them tell you of these 
sacrifices themselves when they return to their 
homes. 

The soldiers thoroughly understood the work re- 
quired of them, and the way they performed this 
5 



work, adds new luster to the Stars in Old Glory 
and makes our Flag- the emblem of all that is glo- 
rious and good. I have given in the back of this 
volume a vocabulary of soldiers' slang, army words 
and phrases, and foreign words and phrases, which 
will make it easy for the reader to understand many 
things they otherwise could not. I have given a 
short history of the 30th Division, and wish it were 
possible to give their history in full, for the people 
at home do not understand that the men of the 30th 
"Old Hickory Wildcats" Division, really per- 
formed one of the greatest and most glorious feats 
in all history, when they helped to break the famous 
Hindenburg Line between Cambrai and St. Quentin. 
This was one of the most difficult parts of this 
great system of trenches to break through, and 
when the 30th Division was thrown into the battle, 
it was at its decisive stage, and this was the decisive 
place ; failure here meant months more of war ; vic- 
tory here meant the speedy collapse of the great 
German Military Machine, and its speedy collapse 
is sufficient proof of the thorough job the men of 
the 30th Old Hickory "Wildcats" Division did in 
tearing through this amazing system of entrench- 
ments, the most thoroughly fortified of any system 
of entrenchments up to this time, and very proba- 
bly, in all history. Many of my old comrades in the 
30th Division have made the supreme sacrifice, and 
it is with sad heart I remember the names of the 
men who have fallen for their country, and for the 
freedom of humanity. May we never forget their 
heroic deeds ; and remember their loved ones, and 
extend them a helping hand and weep with them in 
honor of their dead. 

THE AUTHOR 



A SHORT HISTORY OF THE 30TH (OLD 
HICKORY: WILD CAT) DIVISION 

The 30th Division was composed almost entirely 
of North Carolina, South Carolina, and Tennessee 
troops. 

The National Guard of the states mentioned 
formed the neuclus around which the different units 
were organized and formed, and answered the Pres- 
ident's call for the mobilization of the National 
Guard, July 25, 1917. The 30th Division was formed 
and trained at Camp Sevier, Greenville, S. C, the 
National Guard being the vanguard of the future 
strength of the division, and was filled to war 
strength by drafted men from the states of North 
Carolina, South Carolina and Tennessee, except a 
very few men from far western states. It has been 
repeatedly mentioned that D. C. men composed a 
part of this division, but that is an error caused 
from the first order from the War Department as- 
signing D, C. National Guard to the 30th Division, 
but this order was rescinded and there were no D. 
C. men with the 30th. 

The 30th Division was trained under General Fai- 
son of North Carolina, and owes its efficiency di- 
rectly to his far-sighted and brilliant leadership, 
while he was not in command of the division, as the 
Commanding General at all times, yet he was in 
direct command, and really trained the division di- 
rectly, and there is no question but that a great deal 
of the credit, for the glorious record this division 
has made in history belongs to General Faison of 
North Carolina. 

It was the 30th Division, Old Hickory's Wild 

Cats, which helped the 4:th British Army to break 

the famous Hindenburg Line, between Cambrai and 

St. Quentin, and in the words of Lloyd George — 

7 



helped to win the MOST WONDERFUL VIC- 
TORY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. 

It is well for the people to remember that this 
was the critical and decisive stage of the great bat- 
tle, the most momentous, and terrible battle in hu- 
man history, and it was the 30th Division, OLD 
HICKORY'S WILD CATS, who really tore 
through the Hindenburg Line, and paved the way 
for the final and crushing victory a few weeks later. 

An editorial from The Charlotte Observer : 

THE THIRTIETH. 

"The public praise bestowed on the 30th Division 
by Field Marshal Haig makes pleasant reading, es- 
pecially for North Carolina people. This division 
is commanded by General Faison who was with it 
from its organization, and under whom it has won 
honors among the most distinguished of the whole 
war. The British Commander's letter of praise is 
sufficient evidence of that fact. It is the "Old Hick- 
ory Division" which had a hand in first cracking the 
German military backbone and it is composed of 
some of the finest citizenship of North Carolina, 
South Carolina and Tennessee. It comes home with 
a gloriously flying banner." 

Editorial in The Charlotte Observer: 

General Haig's letter of praise : 

With the British Army in Belgium. 

Sunday, Nov. 24, 1918 — (By Associated Press). — • 
Now that you are leaving the British zone, I wish 
to thank you and all the officers and non-commis- 
sioned officers and men on behalf of myself and all 
the ranks of the British Armies in France and Flan- 
ders, for the very gallant and efficient service you 
have rendered during your operations with the 
British 4th Army. 

On the 29th of September you participated with 



distinction in a great and critical attack which shat- 
tered the enemy's resistance on the Hindenburg 
Line and which opened the road to final victory. The 
deeds of the 30th and 27th American divisions which 
took Bellecourt and Nauroy and gallantly sustained 
the desperate struggle for Bony, will rank with the 
highest achievements of the whole war. 

The names of Brancourt, Bremont, Busigny, 
Vaux-Andigny, St. Souplet and Wassigny will tes- 
tify to the dash and energy of your attacks. I am 
proud to have had you in my command. 

WILDCATS WILL SOON BE HOME 
(By H. E. C. Bryant) 

Washington, Nov. 27. — The Wildcats, the sol- 
diers of the 30th Division, are breaking away from 
the British Army and may turn homeward soon. 
They have a glorious fighting record. Marshal 
Foche, General Haig, General Pershing and others 
of high rank have praised them. 

The North Carolina boys are with the 30th. Peo- 
ple here often wonder if their comrades, "The Brit- 
ish," recall that the great grandfathers of these 
"Southern Wildcats" were the men who made Corn- 
wallis hop about Charlotte and peppered the Brit- 
ish at Kings Alountain. No division comes from 
Europe with more laurels than the "Wildcats." 

The composition of the 30th as announced by the 
war department follows : The 59th and 60th In- 
fantry Brigades, consisting of the 117th, 118th, 
119th and 120th Infantry regiments. It is probable 
that the 30th Division also operated as an infantry 
organization in the big Picardy drive, and did not 
have its own artillery. 

The 30th consists of North and South Carolina 
and Tennessee troops with a few New York Na- 
9 



tional Army men. It is no wonder the Tar Heels 
and their comrades won the name of "Wildcats." 

Men never made sacrifice more generously and 
patriotically, than did the men of the 30th Division ; 
men never worked harder and more enthusiastically 
to get ready to vanquish an enemy ; men were never 
more loyal to their comrades and officers, and a 
more generous hearted, intelligent body of men was 
never assembled on the face of the earth, than the 
men of the 30th, "Old Hickory Wildcat" Division. 

Men of no country ever returned to their homes 
with a more brilliant record of achievements; no 
men could do more than these men of the 30th Di- 
vision have done to uphold the traditions of their 
fighting fathers and hold Old Glory high, unspotted 
and unstained, more glorious than ever, waving its 
defiance to the enemies of Democracy ; and chal- 
lenging the divine right of Kings and Autocrats and 
destroying forever the doctrine of Kultur, and that 
might makes right. 

General Pershing's official report of casualties suf- 
fered by the 30th Division shows a total of 7,623, 
divided as follows: Killed in action, 1,168; died of 
wounds, 283 ; died of disease, 16 ; died of other 
causes, 5; severely wounded, 1,181; wounded, de- 
gree undetermined, 805 ; slightly wounded, 3,973 ; 
missing or prisoners, 193 ; total, 7,623. 

The casualties suffered by the 30th Division is 
ample proof of their fighting qualities, and the na- 
ture of the fighting they did in France. The total 
casualties reported shows that the division suffered 
almost one-fourth of its entire strength ; when at full 
war strength, or 7,623 casualties out of a full 
strength of about 35,000 men. These casualties 
were inflicted from August to November 11th, only 
about three months and a half of fighting, and at 
the same rate of casualties, a year's fighting would 
10 



have wiped out the entire division. The casualties 
as shown for the entire division, does not give the 
reader a clear understanding of the casualties suf- 
fered by this division ; as most of the casualties oc- 
curred among the infantry and machine gun units, 
and the entire strength of these units in the 30th 
Division when they left Camp Sevier, S. C, last 
spring, was about 16,000 men. It is sure that the 
infantry and machine gun units sustained at least 
two-thirds of the casualties suffered by the entire 
division, that being true they would have 5,400 cas- 
ualties, or nearly 34 per cent, of their personnel, at 
full war strength. These units were used as shock 
troops ; the highest possible tribute of their effi- 
ciency and courage that could be paid them ; shock 
troops are used to break the enemy's resistance 
where even good troops cannot make an impression, 
and it will be seen by this that the men of the Old 
Hickory Division were not among the best, but were 
of the very best troops in Europe at that time, which 
should cause every citizen of the states from whence 
these brave men came, to be very proud of the 
glorious record of their kinsmen on the bloody bat- 
tle fields of France ; men who have added new lus- 
tre to the stars in Old Glory, written a yet still more 
glorious page in the history of this glorious South- 
land; added a new meaning to the flag of our Na- 
tion, and sealed it with their life blood on blood- 
soaked battle fields of Belgium and France. Whether 
they were really named "Wildcats" by the English 
4th Army or not, we know they fought like "Wild- 
cats," and wildcats they were to the enemy they op- 
posed, and it is far from us to detract or take away 
from another, fame that is justly theirs ; but even if 
some other division had taken upon themselves the 
name of "Wildcats" that does not alter the fact that 
Old Hickory's "Wildcats" were not real wildcats in 
11 



battle and very probably earned that name as re- 
ported from their fighting with the 4th British 
Army between Cambrai and St. Quentin. The 81st 
Division carried the name of "The Stonewall Di- 
vision" and if they nicknamed themselves "Wild- 
cats" that is no reason why Old Hickory's boys are 
not entitled to the same, and "Wildcats" they shall 
be, at least by the author; and very likely in his- 
tory. 

As history unrolls itself to future generations the 
heroic deeds and achievements of the soldiers of the 
army no nation w411 be eulogized more than the glo- 
rious achievements of Old Hickory's "Wildcats" on 
the shell-torn fields of Europe's historic battle fields. 
Reverently, 

THE AUTHOR 



12 



WHY I AM PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN 
SOLDIER 

(Winner of second prize in Trench and Camp Con- 
test, Camp Sevier, S. C.) 

I am proud to be an American soldier. 1st, be- 
cause I am an American, and believe in the Consti- 
tution of the United States, and all that it implies; 
that I actually owe all that I am, and have, to my 
country, and that I am highly honored to be per- 
mitted to serve my country, in such a great and 
worthy cause. 

2nd. Because we are fighting for a principle, and 
not for conquest ; for the freedom of all mankind, 
and not to enslave them ; for the preservation of the 
liberty of all nations, both great and small ; that 
treaties must be respected ; that peace and not might 
shall rule the world. 

3rd. I am proud that I have been endowed with 
strength, both physical and mental, so that I can 
participate and share in the final victory over Prus- 
sian militarism, and help to bury forever from the 
face of mankind the hellish doctrine of Kultur, 
which has caused human beings to murder defense- 
less humanity in order that such doctrines might 
rule the earth, and last I am proud to be a soldier 
of the United States of America in this great war, 
because I am from America, and believe in all her 
traditions both now and forever. 



13 



A TOAST "TO THE MEN OF OLD HICKORY^ 

Here's to the men of Old Hickory 
For the noble deeds you have done, 
For the great and Glorious Victory 
The men of Old Hickory have won. 

Here's to the Spirit of Old Hickory 
Which helped to carry you through, 
And helped you to win a great victory 
'Neath the folds of the Red, White and Blue. 

"TO OUR FLAG" 

Here's to the stars in Old Glory ; 
Here's to its rainbow hue. 
Here's to the Red in Old Glory, 
And here's to its Sacred Blue. 

Here's to The Star Spangled Banner ; 

To the Flag of our fathers ; to you : 

We renew our faith and allegience 

*Neath the folds of the Red, White and Blue. 

"TO OUR MOTHERS" 

Here's to our Mothers, we love so. 
Who made the Great Victory worth while; 
Who gave us to fight for Old Glory, 
And sent us away with a smile. 

We know of her heart-aches and worries 
We know of her sorrows and tears. 
We know of her prayers and her fasting. 
We know of her fightings and fears. 

So here's to our mothers, dear mothers; 
Whose tear-drops made the eye burn 
Smiling, sent us away to the battle 
And will cry whene'er we return. 

Allen, N. C., November 28, 1918. 
14 



"THEY'RE COMING BACK" 

Old Hickory's boys are coming back 

From far across the foam ; 

They'll throw away their gun and pack 

And hit the trail for home. 

They are coming back; coming back. 

And we'll all be there to meet them 

Just bet your boots 'twill not be hoots 

They'll hear when e'er we greet them. 

They are coming back to peace and rest; 

They've nobly kept their trust, 

And there is no foeman east or west 

Dares tramp our flag in dust ; 

And they're coming back; coming back; 

All their duty done, 

They did their bit ; yes every whit 

When they whipped the dirty Hun. 

When they put Old Hickory's boys in France 

They broke old Hindy's line; 

They kicked old Hindy in the pants 

And throwed him in the Rhine ; 

Now they're coming back; coming back; 

These boys so brave and true. 

They whipped the Hun, the son-of-a-gun. 

In darned short order, too. 

Old Hickory's boys are coming back, 
Victory stamped upon their brow. 
They whipped the Hun till he was black 
And ended up the row; 
So they're coming back; coming back; 
To Home Fires burning bright, 
Without a fear, to loved ones dear. 
To home, and love and light. 
15 



Oh, yes ; they'll soon be on their way 

Across the briny deep, 

And when the bands begin to play 

We all with joy will weep; 

For they're coming back; coming back; 

"We thank the God above," 

To friends and home, no more to roam, 

To sweethearts, peace and love. 

No more they'll strafe the German swine 

No more squads right-about; 

No more v/ith mess-kits will they dine 

No more canned corn and kraut; 

For they're coming back; coming back; 

These heroes brave and bold. 

They come apace ; with smiling face 

Just like the knights of old. 

Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 1918.) 



COLUMBIA WELCOMES HER SOLDIERS 

Columbia's arms are open wide 
To fold you to her breast, 
A nation's heart o'er-flows with pride 
And welcomes back her best. 

The hand which the Nation extends to you 
Is reaching out over the sea, 
To clasp warmly, the hands of her heroes 
Who have fought to make the world free. 

A warm welcom.e awaits you, brave heroes. 
You, who have so valiantly fought. 
Who by giving your life-blood so freely 
The freedom of nations have bought. 
16 



The home fires are burning more brightly 
Your loved ones and friends have been true. 
With the hand of the Nation extending 
A welcome, glad welcome, to you. 

The Flag of our fathers is dearer, 
Every stripe, every star and strand, 
For the blood of our heroes that stained it 
On the shores of a foreign land. 

More pride in our land as a Nation, 
More pride in the stripes and the stars, 
More pride in our English notation, 
Alore pride in our railroads and cars. 

More pride in our ships and our sailors, 
More pride in our soldiers and guns, 
More pride in our soldiers than ever 
For handing hell to the Turk and the Huns. 

The stars in Old Glory are brighter, 
The stripes more wide and more bold ; 
The hands which uphold it are lighter 
And more beauty in hue and in fold. 

The Nation it stands for is prouder, 
The stars are worth more than of old ; 
Its voice for world freedom is louder, 
Its promise more precious than gold. 

The freedom it stands for, more precious 
The Autocracy it hates, has less chance, 
For the blood of its martyrs is crying 
From the valleys and mountains of France. 



17 



To the Flag- of our fathers ; exalted : 

To our heroes, brave heroes, to you 

We stand with heads bowed and uncovered 

'Neath the folds of the Red, White and Blue. 

Allen, N. C, November 18, 1918. 



THE TAR HEEL SOLDIER 

We don't claim to be real soldiers 

And we're not aching for a fight, 

But we haven't got a yellow streak 

And our liver is not white ; 

And since the dirty Hun, 

The son-of-a-gun, 

Commenced the fun 

You can bet your mon 

That we'll help to put him right. 

Since this dad-gum war has started 

Our mind's all in a trance. 

So we'll take our rifle and our pack 

And start right now for France, 

And since the cussed Hun, 

Dirty son-of-a-gun. 

Started on the run 

Every dad-gum one 

Of us must surel}^ take a chance. 

And we all must do our level best 
And we must not cry or whine, 
But crack the Hun upon the head 
And kick him across the Rhine, 
And with all our might 
We'll fight and fight 
Both day and night 
Till they see the light. 
These dirty German swine. 
18 



We'll make them throw their guns away, 

Hand grenades and gas as well, 

And make them wish with all their hearts 

That their Kaiser was in hell. 

For we'll be on deck 

And you can bet by Heck, 

That just a fleck, 

A tiny speck, 

Will be left of them ; a smell. 

We didn't start this dad-gum war 

But you can bet your boots we'll end it, 

And since the Kaiser's mind is wrong 

We'll teach him how to mend it, 

And without his coat 

We'll make him tote 

His old U-Boat 

Out on the moat. 

And, by Gosh ; he'll have to stand it. 

Note — The real Tar Heel is not a hot headed fire eater, 
by any means, but when you get him started, he is a hard 
man to get to turn loose. I have written this verse, which 
gives my idea of the real Tar Heel soldier. — The Author. 



OLD HICKORY'S BOYS AND HINDY'S LINE 

Old Hickory says : 

When the war broke out, I called my boys ; 
These dear brave boys of mine. 
They gave up home and loved ones 
And proudly fell in line. 

I was careful when I picked them 
For I had to have the best, 
So I got them down in Dixie 
Where they stand the acid test. 
19 



They came from the Carolinas 
And from the state of Tennessee, 
And rallied 'round Old Glory 
To help to make men free. 

They came from farm and city, 
From the mill, the shop and store, 
From the far off Mississippi 
To fair Carolina's shore. 

When the Anglo-French hit Hindy's line 
They found a hornet's nest, 
So they sent word to General Pershing 
To send his very best. 

So I sent my boys into the fight 
With their faces toward the Rhine, 
And told them they must never stop 
Until they broke old Hindy's line. 

They went right into the battle, 
And with bayonet, gas and shell 
They tore right through old Hindy's line 
And sent his Huns to hell. 

Now, since my boys have started in 
And have broke old Hindy's line 
They will never let old Hindy rest 
Until he gets beyond the Rhine. 

And if he stops this side of Berlin 

He will not have a single chance, 

For the boys will take him by the neck 

And kick him in the pants. 

Now, these boys will keep on going 
And will not stop until 
They walk the streets of Berlin 
And they get old Kaiser Bill. 
20 



GOODBYE KAISER BILL 

(To the tune of Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye) 

Old Kaiser Bill stood on a hill 
And watched a big U-boat. 
Old Hickory's boys came marching by 
And stole the Kaiser's goat. 

Chorus : 

Goodbye Billy, goodbye Old Kaiser Bill, 
Goodbye Billy, goodbye Old Kaiser Bill, 
Goodbye Billy, goodbye Old Kaiser Bill, 
And it's good. Kaiser Bill. 

Von Hindenburg stood on the field 
And watched his soldiers fight ; 
Old Hickory's boys come marching up 
And old Hindenburg turned white. 

Chorus : 
Old Ludendorff was standing by 
And saw the sight as well ; 
When Old Hickory's boys got in the fight 
They sent his Huns to hell. 

Chorus : 

Then the Kaiser turned himself about 
And looked the other way ; 
Old Hickory's boys came marching up 
And helped to win the day. 

Chorus : 

Old Kaiser Bill, he lost the fight 

For he had no earthly chance ; 

When Old Hickory's boys got thru with him 

He had holes in his pants. 

Chorus : 
21 



When Old Hickory's boys got in the fight 
They did not quit until 
They got the German soldier's goat, 
And they got Old Kaiser Bill. 

Chorus : 



THE SPIRIT OF OLD HICKORY 

Old Hickory's boys are coming, France, 
And we're coming thousands strong; 
Old Hickory's spirit in our hearts 
There to help you right your wrong. 

We, Old Hickory's sons, are coming. 
Coming in Columbia's name ; 
Coming with grim heart and purpose 
Caring naught for wealth or fame. 

Caring naught for German terror, 
Fearing not his strength nor might ; 
We, Old Hickory's sons, are coming. 
Filled with spirit and with fight. 

Be the soil of France our pillow, 
Let our mantle be the cloud ; 
Let our battle cry, be Freedom, 
Let Old Glory be our shroud. 

We, the sons of Carolina, 

And of good old Tennessee ; 

We, Old Hickory's sons are coming, 

That the whole world may be free. 

We are leaving friends and loved ones, 
But our hearts will not say no; 
We are leaving w4ves and sweethearts, 
But their spirits all say go. 
22 



We are coming, France ; our sister 
With dear Freedom's flag- unfurled ; 
With the spirit of Old Hickory 
That gives freedom to the world. 



KEEP YOUR HEART FOR ME 

Though I leave you, little sweetheart, 

I will never say goodbye ; 

For I go to do my duty, 

And keep Old Glory waving high. 

Though I leave you now, my darling, 
For a land beyond the foam ; 
Dear, I go to fight the German 
And my God will send me home. 

All I ask of you, my sweetheart, 
Is that you will never weep ; 
Because I go to do my duty, 
In a land beyond the deep. 

Keep a warm place in your heart, love, 
And my darling you'll be true. 
For you cannot love another 
While I go to light for 3^ou. 

While I am fighting for my country. 
Love, my thoughts will be of you; 
And if I fall in battle, darling. 
Twill be for the old Red, White and Blue. 

Sweetheart, keep the letters coming. 
For you know I'll miss you, dear ; 
If you keep the letters coming, 
I will feel that you are near. 
23 



And I'll know that your dear spirit 
Sends a message from your heart, 
That your prayers will protect me 
Even though we are far apart. 

Always keep the Home Fires burning 
For 'twill help you to be true ; 
And some day you'll see your husband 
Come marching bravely back to you. 

Camp Sevier, S. C, on the eve of my departure for Over 
Tkere, to my wife. 



THE SOLDIER'S SWEETHEART 

When the dew falls in the evening 
And the stars come peeping through, 
And my work and drills are over 
Then it is I think of you. 

And I wonder what you're doing. 
Where you are, my love, tonight ; 
If you're thinking of your soldier 
Who has gone to France to fight. 

For his country and his sweetheart, 
For the Old Red, White and Blue ; 
For the flag that stands for freedom, 
For the land that shelters you. 

Sweetheart, can you love a slacker. 
One who is afraid to fight, 
When Columbia called her faithful. 
One whose heart was filled with fright? 

When the call of war was sounded, 
One who waved the bloody shirt, 
When Old Glory called for soldiers 
Hides beneath a woman's skirt. 
24 



Though this love sick fool is near you, 
And the crop of beaux is light ; 
Do not let this slacker fool you, 
For you could not make him fight. 

Sweetheart, let your heart be with me 
In the battle and the strife; 
Keep your prayers for me ascending 
That my God may keep my life. 

Send your spirit to be with me 
In what ever land I roam ; 
Keep the Home Fires burning brightly 
Till your soldier boy comes home. 
September 24, 1918. 

Note — Home-Fires is a new word coined from a song 
written by a soldier in the trenches. The writer of the 
song of "Keep the Home Fires Burning," has long since 
made the supreme sacrifice. The word Home-Fires means 
your heart, your love, the little home affairs, home ties, etc. 



IF I HAD OLD KAISER BILL 

If I had old Kaiser Bill 

ril tell you what I'd do ; 

I'd give him, barbed-wire underclothes, 

And barbed-wire stockings, too. 

I'd knit him a barbed-wire sweater 
And a barbed-wire tie, as well ; 
I'd give him a barbed-wire overcoat, 
And for a hat, a big church bell. 

I'd feed him bombs for breakfast 
And give him gas at noon. 
Hand grenades would be his supper 
And a gas shell be his spoon. 
25 



When he wanted to go walking 
I would build a bayonet road, 
And he'd have to walk it bare-foot 
And carry a heavy load. 

When he wanted a drink of water 
I would give him mustard-gas, 
And to satisfy his hunger 
I would feed him iron and brass. 

If he wanted a drink of lager-beer, 
"Still was not satisfied" 
rd give him a drink of chlorine gas 
To satisfy his pride. 

rd want to live ten million years 
And have nothing else to do 
But hunt the very meanest jobs 
To put old William through. 

And when I'd made him do them all 
I would want a vineyard, too, 
And a tread-mill for a wine-press 
And he'd have all the work to do. 

And if he balked at tramping, 
Made a whimper or a whine 
Vd tie a cannot to his neck 
And throw him in the Rhine. 

When his lungs got full of water 
And his stomach full of sand 
And he'd call on Gott to save him, 
To put him back on land. 

Then I'd call up on long-distance 
And when old Satan heard the bell 
I'd tell him that his dearest friend 
Was on his way to hell. 
26 



And to have a hot fire ready, 
For he'd be very cold and wet ; 
And to be very kind to Willie 
For he had come to pay his debt. 

To make final preparations 
For he had come to stay a spell ; 
He had been too mean to live on earth 
And I was sending him to hell. 
November 11, 1918. 



ARE YOU YELLOW STREAKED? 

Have you got a yellow streak 
Or have you got the grit 
To walk right up and be a man 
And do your little bit? 

If you haven't got a yellow streak 
A running up your back 
You'll go right now and volunteer 
And carry your old knapsack. 

You think your name is now upon 
Old Glory's Honor Roll, 
But when you go and register 
You've only started toward the goal. 

For verily it seems to me 
That almost any man 
Would rather go and register 
Than serve time in the pen. 

Now where you can find the honor 
Is more than I can tell ; 
You think because you've registered 
You've done almighty well. 
27 



But again it plainly seems to me 
(Since the query has arisen) 
It paid the men almighty well 
And kept them out of prison. 

Now that is all that I can find, 
There is nothing else will fit ; 
You were compelled to register, 
You've done your little bit. 

Now this is the light we view them in 
For in comparing all kinds of eggs 
We find upon their being hatched 
They are generally featherlegs. 

Now what you ought to understand 
Is creeks help to make a river 
And soldiers help to win a war. 
But cowards have white liver. 

No war on earth was ever won 
By chatter or by talk ; 
It takes a man to make a soldier, 
Will you go, or will you balk? 

Why you had rather be a conscript 
To me seems very queer ; 
Go take a bath, and wash your back, 
Walk up and volunteer. 

You may not have a yellow streak 
A running up your back 
Because you do not go 
And carry your old knapsack. 

For many of you are married 
And others must stay behind 
To care for the aged and feeble, 
The decrepit and the blind. 
28 



All honor to you, my loyal friends, 
I am not flinging this at you ; 
Stay at home and fight your fight 
And help the soldiers through. 

Old Glory now is calling you 

In accents loud and plain ; 

Her honor has been insulted, 

Will you help wipe away the stain? 

Will you walk up and volunteer 
And let your presence speak, 
Or stay at home and tremble there 
And show your yellow streak? 

Charlotte, N. C, July 14, 1918. 

Note — Written after having prospective recruits tell me 
that if they waited to be drafted they would not have to 
go to France, as it was against the law to send men over, 
unless they were volunteers. I wrote this under excite- 
ment, and very soon after wrote the following poem, The 
National Army," which shows how I really feel about the 
men who were drafted. A man who is in business in Char- 
lotte at this time, interfered with me when I was trying 
to get two young men to enlist, he telling them he had a 
letter from a certain Congressman, stating that it was 
against the law to send men over seas unless they were 
volunteers. This poem is a direct challenge to him. 



THE NATIONAL ARMY 

Of course you did not volunteer 
And you're not punching out your chest, 
But when it comes to fighting 
You'll be found there with the rest. 

For there never was an American 
When it comes down to a fight, 
Who ever showed white feather 
With an enemy in sight. 
29 



And though the national army man 
Will not be a volunteer 
He will be there when the fighting starts 
And will stay there, never fear. 

And wherever they may get him, 
From the city or the plain 
He'll be there at the battle's, end 
And will be amongst the slain. 

Of course we cannot understand 
Why he doesn't volunteer; 
But we'll have to hand it to him 
For we know it isn't fear. 

And wherever they may place him 
He'll be there with the steel ; 
He'll not get scared and run away 
And show the Boche his heel. 

And since Mr. Boche is aching 
For a scrap with Uncle Sam 
We'll help this National Army 
To smash him into jam. 

If there is anyone not satisfied 
That the drafted boys will fight, 
Just let him step into the ring 
And he'll be a holy sight. 

And when the war is over 

And the boys come marching home. 

Singing songs of victory 

From bloody fields across the foam. 

We'll all forget the difference 
Between selects and volunteers 
And we'll celebrate together, 
And together shed our tears. 



And when we're old and feeble 
And it's sweet reunion time, 
We'll meet and talk together 
About a brighter fairer clime. 

And the banners and the flowers. 
The heartaches and the fun 
Will be shared by every veteran 
For we're comrades everyone. 

July 25, 1917. Charlotte, N. C, while doing re- 
cruiting duty. 



WELCOME TO THE DRAFTED BOYS 

You are welcome, boys, in the Hornets Nest; 
We are glad to have you here ; 
You did not claim to be so brave 
Yet we know you have no fear. 

I have flayed you selects good and strong 
Still I know you are brave and true, 
And you'll uphold the sacred cause 
And the Old Red, White and Blue. 

And now we bid you welcome, boys; 
For we know you're of the best 
And we are sure you'll be a blessing 
To the good old Hornets Nest. 

J 
Now I for one ; will do my best 
To help you selects through. 
For we're fighting now, yes, everyone; 
For the old Red, White and Blue. 
31 



And since Columbia has called you 
And you have your pack and gun 
We'll all forget the difference 
And be comrades everyone. 

And you'll be treated fairly 
By every true American 
For we couldn't do it otherwise 
And still be half a man. 

So let us all forget the difference 
And do our level best 
To be true and faithful comrades 
In the good old Hornests Nest. 

Note — Written for, and presented to the first drafted men 
to come to Company F, lOStli Engineers, at Camp Sevier, 
S. C, December, 1917. 



THE VOLUNTEERS 

They have picked us up in Oregon, 
They have picked us up in Maine, 
They have found us down in Georgia 
And out upon the plain. 

But wherever they have found us 
We are treasures, you can bet. 
And if we owe the Nation, 
We can fully pay the debt. 

We are from the town and country, 
From the shop and from the store, 
And from every little hamlet 
To the far Pacific shore. 
32 



We are every race and kindred, 
We are black and we are white, 
We are here to help Old Glory 
To win the world for right. 

We are not fighting for our glory 
Nor for money, nor for pelf, 
But that every one upon the earth 
Will have no fear for self. 

We are here to help Old Glory 
And since we're in the right 
\Ne'\\ let the haughty Prussian know 
The volunteers are in the fight. 

We have left wives, sweethears, mothers, 
Our kindred and our friends ; 
Our hearts all have one purpose 
And with Old Glory blends. 

We are fighting for a Nation 
That has never known defeat, 
And though we die in battle 
We will never know retreat. 

To our wives, sweethears and mothers 
And friends and kindred, dear. 
Just do your bit, by being brave 
And never shed a tear. 

We bid you now a fond farewell 
For we're going o'er the foam ; 
And we'll start the Boche upon his way 
And send him hurrying home. 

And if we die in battle 
Just smile in place of tears, 
For we'll die like soldiers ought to die ; 
Though we're only volunteers. 
Note — For Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, Jan- 
uary 8, 1918. 



THE SOLDIER'S PRAYER 

Thou little Babe of Bethlehem, 

Thou didst not die in vain ; 

Thy soldiers now are marching on 

To wipe away the stain 

Of the Hun and Turk's atrocities, 

Of the millions he has slain. 

Thy face to us, a star of hope, 

That shines along the way, 

Thy hand points toward Jerusalem 

As in the olden day ; 

Thou wilt help us win the victory 

For the Hun and Turk must pay. 

For the millions he has murdered, 
For the maimed, the halt, the blind, 
For the suffering he has caused 
To helpless ones behind. 
Thou little Babe of Bethlehem 
Keep us pure in heart and mind. 

Let us not forget the Kaiser 
Of this brutish Teuton race 
Who butchers little children 
Before the mother's face. 
And smiles w^ith satisfaction 
When his cannon are in place. 

To hurl their charge of hell and death 
Into thy tabernacles fair, 
And find the helpless victims 
Who are congregated there 
For worship and communion 
In the Holy house of prayer. 



Thou blessed Babe of Bethlehem 
Be our guide, our hope, our stay; 
Lead us on to victory 
For the Hun and Turk must pay 
For all his hellish infamy — 
Lord, help us win the day. 

Note — For Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, January 
22, 1918. 



"ARMAGEDDON" 

W'hilc men go gaily on their way 
And children sing and dance 
The fate of man is being sealed 
On the battle fields of France. 

All unconscious of the fact 
That either joy or gloom, 
Must come of this great test today 
Being woven on Fate's loom. 

It is either joy or sorrow, 

It is either weal or woe, 

That must come of this great battle 

Where blood red rivers flow. 

It is God or Devil, Hell or Heaven, 
There can be no other way. 
The fate of man is being sealed 
On bloodstained fields today. 

It is the end, be it good or bad. 
Be it victory or defeat ; 
The armies of our God w^ill win 
Or else they wdll retreat. 
35 



It is either peace and plenty, 
Or bayonet, gas and shell ; 
It is either the Anglo-Saxon, 
Or the Devil, Hun and Hell. 

It is either rape and murder. 
Or Christ, and love and light; 
It is either God Almighty 
Or the Devil, Hun and night. 

It is the battle of Armageddon, 
It is darkness against the light; 
It is Jesus and the Manger, 
Or Hell and German Night. 

We fear not the great decision. 
We care naught for German might; 
We throw our all into the fray, 
And trust to God and right. 
March 24, 1918. 

Note — For the Greenville Daily News, Greenville, S. C. 
t still consider it the decisive battle of this war, and •'^laim 
that all the different offensives of both belligerents are 
phases of this battle, and that after this battle ends, there 
will be no other great battle during this war. I do not 
claim this is the Armageddon, spoken of in Scriptiwe, but 
the Armageddon of this war. 



FOR THE OLD RED, WHITE AND BLUE 

I am sitting in my tent tonight 
And I'm thinking of my home ; 
I am thinking of the time I'll have 
When I go across the foam. 

When I meet the haughty Prussian 
On the battle fields of France; 
When I'm in this hell of battle 
Just what will be my chance? 



Of ever getting home again, 
And will they miss me there; 
And if I'll do my duty 
When fighting anywhere? 

Oh! It's nice to shout Hurrah! Hurrah! 
And salute Old Glory, too; 
And imagine you'll die fighting 
For the old Red, White and Blue. 

But when you're in the army 
And it's time for you to go 
It's not the fun you thought it was 
To make the daisies grow. 

The little wife you've left behind 
To wait and pray for you. 
Oh, it's not so easy, comrade, 
But the old Red, White and Blue 

Must surely be protected. 
And I'll go and do my best 
"Although I'm not so anxious 
For the medals on my breast." 

My Uncle Samuel needs me. 
He needs men tried and true 
To uphold the honor of our flag, 
The flag of rainbow hue. 

So I will go to France light hearted 
And will try with all my might, 
And if I fall in battle 
My God will make things right. 

Note — Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, January 
15, 1918. Written while sitting in my tent alone one night, 
when we were getting ready to go over seas. 

37 



THE TEST 

It may not be on the battle field, 
It may not be on the sea, 
It may not be in the air above; 
"The test for you and me." 

It may not be by deeds sublime ; 
However hard we try 
To emulate our father's deeds. 
And for our country die. 

But it will be by our talk, our work, 
And everything we do, 
To win this war we cannot shirk. 
And to our land be true. 

We are out to win, and win we must ; 
Whate'er our feelings be. 
We must not say bad things today, 
For the whole world must be free. 

To free the world we all must do, 
And be our level best; 
For the freedom of the world today, 
Must come from out the West. 

Christ died to free the world from sin, 
Let us die to make men free ; 
Let us go to France to die or win, 
And it is up to you and me. 

The deeds the other fellow does. 
Our trials and our woes, 
Must all be laid aside today 
For it is comfort to our foes. 
38 



You may have your trials and your woes. 

But do not cry or whine; 

We all must make our sacrifice, 

And I am freely making mine. 

Note — Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, Mareh 23, 
1918. 



LOVE, FM COMING BACK TO YOU 

When it's morning down at Greenville 
And the sun comes peeping through 
And the grass begins to glisten 
Like the good old home town dew. 

Then I look across to Greenville 
And it makes me kind of blue ; 
When it's morning down at Greenville. 
Love, my thoughts go back to you. 

When the April winds are blowing 
And the air is full of sand, 
And I'm hiking up the mountains 
And my legs refuse to stand, 

I have got to grin and bear it, 
I am bound to see it through ; 
And to make my burden lighter, 
Love, my thoughts go back to you. 

When it's night-time here in Greenville, 
With my gun I w^alk my post 
And do the vigil of the camp 
'Till I feel just like a ghost, 
39 



Then I look up towards the heavens 
And the stars come peeping through; 
When it's night time here in Greenville, 
Love, my thoughts go back to you. 

When I'm sent across the ocean 
And I meet the Hun and Turk ; 
When my hands are torn and bleeding 
For I know I'll have to work, 

Then I'll cast my eyes toward England 
And beyond the ocean blue ; 
Across the wide Atlantic, love, 
To the land that shelters you. 

When this cruel war is over 
And I'm not compelled to work; 
And we've killed up every German 
And every murdering Turk, 

Then I'll start across the ocean 
And you can bet I'm coming through 
For my heart has gone before me. 
Love, I'm coming back to you. 



DO NOT FORGET US 

Do not forget us, our dear Uncle Sam, 
While we fight for the Red, White and Blue ; 
Only care for our wives and our loved ones 
While we are risking our lives for you. 

Do not forget us, dear folks at home. 
Keep the Home Fires bright and new ; 
Keep the letters of cheer going over the foam 
While we are risking our lives for you. 
40 



Do not forget us, dear Father, above, 

When we are in this earthly hell ; 

When we are in combat with the Hun and Turk 

And are facing gas and shell. 

Do not forget us, dear folks at home, 
We don't want your pity or tears ; 
But send us the letters out over the foam ; 
'Tis the letters from loved ones that cheers. 



Do not forget us, dear sweethearts at home ; 
We are risking our all for you. 
Let your hearts be with us, over in France, 
And remember, dear love, to be true. 



Do not forget us, dear folks at home, 

We don't mind the risk or the work 

If you will see that our loved ones are cared for 

We will attend to the Hun and the Turk. 



But if you fail to care for our loved ones 
While we fight for the Red, White and Blue 
You are not being true to your promise 
Nor to the flag that is sheltering you. 

Do not forget us, our Dear Uncle Sam, 
Please care for our mothers and wives 
And we'll protect the flag of our fathers 
With our whole soul, strength and our lives. 

We will shout, work and fight, for Old Glory 
And we will keep her beauty unfurled, 
And we will carry the Star Spangled Banner 
To the uttermost parts of the world. 
41 



OUR LOVED ONES AT HOME 

We are ready and waiting for Over the Top, 
We are ready for over the foam ; 
And all we ask of you, dear Uncle Sam, 
Is that you care for our loved ones at home. 

If our hearts seem to falter, dear Uncle, 

Still to Old Glory we're true ; 

It's our loved ones at home we're thinking of, sir; 

They are not being cared for by you. 

We have heard of the man who'd go over 
And leave his loved ones in want and in need, 
But you don't want him in battle, dear Uncle, 
For he's there for his clothes and his feed. 

If you want us to go over, dear Uncle, 
And fight with our whole soul and mind, 
You will have to send the allotments 
To the loved ones were leaving behind. 

We will give all we have, dear Uncle, 
Just one favor we're asking of you ; 
Please care for our wives and our mothers 
While we fight for the Red, White and Blue. 

We will follow the flag of our fathers. 
We will give it our heart, soul and mind. 
If only we know our dear Uncle Sam 
That you will care for our loved ones behind. 

It isn't much we're asking, dear Uncle, 
While we go fight the Hun and the Turk, 
If we know that our loved ones are cared for, 
We will not mind the risk or the work. 
42 



Dear Uncle, don't make us go over 
*Till our loved ones at home can be fed ; 
If you'll care for our wives and our mothers 
We don't give a damn for the lead. 

Just care for our loved ones, dear Uncle, 
While we shoulder our pack and our gun ; 
And we'll prove that we're not so ungrateful 
By handing hell to the Turk and the Hun. 

We know that our mite must be meagre 

But dear Uncle, it is all we can do. 

If you will care for our wives and our loved ones 

We will die or see the war through. 

March 22, 1918, Camp Sevier, S. C. 

Note — This was never published for patriotic reasons. 
Written on account of my wife's allotments remaining un- 
paid. 



WE ARE COMING, KAISER BILL 

There is a man who lives in Europe 
And he has made a funny will ; 
He has willed the earth to Prussia 
This murdering, war mad, Kaiser Bill. 

And this demon of destruction 
Now has made of earth a hell ; 
He simply means to own creation, 
And the heavens above as well. 

This murdering dis-owned son of Satin 
Rules and reigns by laws of might 
That necessity knows no law. 
And by the will of God is right. 
43 



Oh, you super-son of Satan 
More than master of his will, 
We are on our way to see you, 
How are you, old Kaiser Bill? 

We will greet you with our cannon, 
With aeroplanes, gas and shell ; 
And we'll make you think, dear Willie, 
That you have lost your grip on hell. 

We will take your tottering heritage 
And we'll place it where we will ; 
We will take your spoils of battle 
And we'll make you pay the bill, 

Of poor suffering, ravished Belgium, 
Of our bleeding sister, France, 
Of poor martyred little Serbia, 
And we'll take your boasted lance, 

And we'll shatter it to fragments, 
And we'll shake your tottering throne 
Till the Hapsburgs, Hohenzollerns 
And the Prussians, all are gone. 

We will make you pay, you despot, 
Who delights in naught but kill; 
You bloody blot in God's creation, 
Oh, we'll get you, Kaiser Bill. 

Call your hosts from on the ocean. 
Call them in from west to east ; 
Call them in, you boastful braggart, 
For you're up against the best. 

And we'll shake your bravest legions 
For we're coming now to kill ; 
We are coming, dear old England, 
And we'll get old Kaiser Bill. 
44 



Yes, we'll get this war mad Devil, 
For we're coming millions strong; 
And we'll learn the Hohenzollerns 
That to rule by might is wrong. 

We will teach the haughty Prussian 
That we still know how to fight, 
And we'll get this square head Kaiser 
If the good Lord gives us light. 

We are coming, Montenegro, 
Coming by our Masters' will. 
And we'll help to gain your freedom 
For we're after Kaiser Bill. 

We have wondered why God made you 
But now we know why, very well ; 
He simply made you, baby killer, 
To shame the devils down in hell. 

You who bayonet little children. 
Rape all maidens low and grand ; 
Carve the breasts from off the mothers, 
And made a hell of God's fair land, 

We are on our way to see you 
(Thief of good Saint Peter's bell) 
And we'll show your fiends no mercy 
When we ruin your little hell. 

We have got the men and cannon, 
And we've got the might and will 
And we're coming with one purpose 
And that to get you, Kaiser Bill. 

We have sworn to get you, Willie, 
In w^hatever land you roam ; 
Yes, we'll get you, baby killer, 
Or we'll never go back home. 
46 



A SOLDIER AND HIS ALLOTMENT 

(Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, March 28, 1918.) 

I wish every soldier could realize the great crisis, 
which our country is passing through today. I 
made an allotment to my wife commencing Novem- 
ber 1st, 1917, and to date she has not received any 
allotment or Government allowance, yet I am 
proud to be able to say, that I am more determined 
than ever I have been before, to go on and help my 
country win this war. 

I applied for a discharge some time back, to Gen- 
eral Faison, commanding this division, and he dis- 
proved my application for discharge. My grounds 
for discharge were that my wife had not received 
any allotment or Government allowance and that 
she was unable to work and was altogether depend- 
ent upon myself for her support, and as she was not 
receiving the money taken out of my salary for her 
support, thought I was compelled to have a dis- 
charge, and it really looks that way, but I was sent 
for by the General and when he got through talking 
to me, I was really ashamed that I had ever made 
application for a discharge. 1st. I really did not 
want a discharge, but my circumstances had become 
such that it seemed that I must have one. My wife 
had written the General a letter explaining her po- 
sition, and he took up his valuable time and fully 
explained things to me. 

The subject of why your dependents are not re- 
ceiving their allotments and allowances is too deli- 
cate a subject to be explained here, but if every sol- 
dier could hear what the General said to me, they 
and their dependents would be willing to sacrifice 
yet a little more, to wait a little longer on the allot- 
ments and allowances, and later they would be able 
to thank God that they did so. 

Our country is facing a crisis now, that few in- 
46 



deed realize, and if your dependents are not receiv- 
ing their allotments and allowance on time, or even 
have not received any at all, remember that the 
writer and his wife are in the same condition, and 
that both are willing to go yet a little farther, to 
make yet greater sacrifices, to wait a little longer 
on her allotments and allowances, because the Gen- 
eral commanding this division took the trouble to 
explain the reason it was necessary to do so to a 
soldier. I am glad to say that I am going to make 
greater efforts, be more efiicient and try and make 
a better soldier than I have ever been, and why : be- 
cause I know that it is absolutely necessary for the 
preservation of this great and glorious land called 
America, that we all claim to love so well. I w^ant 
every soldier who reads this, to believe me, when 
I say that I am glad to do my very best, and to make 
far greater sacrifices if need be, because I realize, as 
I have never realized before the great sacrifices that 
are going to be required of every individual in this 
country, to win the war. 

You are going to have to sacrifice, to make your 
individual sacrifice, whether you are in the army or 
civil life, don't forget that; and remember that the 
writer and his wife are w^illing to make their sacri- 
fices far greater, and to believe that our country 
needs every sacrifice that it is possible for us to 
make, in order that it be possible for us to win in 
this great struggle, against the most powerful, bru- 
tish and treacherous nation that has ever waged a 
war. 

Note — I finally had a nervous breakdown, and I attribute 
it to nothing else but worrying about my home affairs. I was 
discharged from the service on account of my nervous con- 
dition, and though my heart w^as right, and I wanted to go 
and do yet more than I had ever done, I could not stand the 
strain, and my nerves gave way. I shall leave it up to you, 
gentle reader, why you think I was discharged, and if it 
could have been avoided. 

47 



LIZA JANE'S ALLOTMENT 

I made an allotment, little Liza Jane, 

Months and months ago, 

But you and little Jack ain't got 

A single bit of dough, 

But you'll surely git it bye and bye ; 

So little Liza don't you cry. 

For Uncle Sam is good to pay 

And you'll git it yet, I know. 

I don't know what the trouble is 

I can't see at all, 

I can't see what's a troublin' them 

For they surely hear your call ; 

But you'll surely git it bye and bye, 

So little Liza don't you cry 

Try and git along till fall. 

They certainly must have lots to do 

My little Liza, honey; 

But some day yet, they'll git to you 

With your allotment money 

For the time must be gittin' nigh ; 

So little Liza don't you cry. 

When they git used to things 

They'll quit bein' so blamed funny. 

I took some insurance, little Liza Jane, 
In case I don't come back 
It will help to pay for our little place, 
And build you a little shack; 
And you can build it bye and bye. 
So little Liza don't you cry. 
But take the money and do your best 
For little Kate and Jack. 
48 



My little Liza, it does seem hard 

To leave you and Kate and Jack 

Without any allotment money 

To go on till I git back; 

But the end of the war is drawin' nigh, 

So little Liza don't you cry 

But keep the Home Fires burnin' 

In our little mountain shack. 

October 30, 1918. 



THE OLD BLUE HAT CORD 

(With apologies to S- Woodworth, in Old Oaken 
Bucket) 

How dear to my heart are the thoughts of my hat 

cord 
When fond recollection presents them to view; 
The cross guns, the hat cord, the drills in close order 
And every loved thing our doughboy days knew. 
The hat cord, and cross guns, the friends whom we 

knew then 
Have all gone and left us to the Engineers' fate 
The blue hat cord we loved so has sadly bereft us 
And e'en the old cross guns are now out of date ; 
The much loved hat cord, the infantry hat cord, 
The old blue hat cord, that suited first rate. 

That old blue hat cord, I hailed as a treasure 
For often at recall when returned from the drill 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure 
When hung on the tent wall to see it at will, 
But now it is gone, and with hands that are aching 
I take pick and shovel with faltering grasp, 
49 



Then my heart with the thought of my hat cord 

o'crflowing 
Is wanting my hands, the blue hat cord to clasp. 
That old loved hat cord, that highly prized hat cord, 
That old blue hat cord, that is now gone at last. 

Note— Camp Sevier, S. C, October 5. 1917. Written 
when my Company was transferred into the 105th En- 
gineers Regiment. We were not at all satisfied at first, but 
very soon were proud that we had been transferred. 



LAMENT OF COMPANY D 

(Hornets Nest Riflemen) 

Our name is gone, and we'll no more 
Be known as Company D 
But whatever the name we're just the same 
For the Banner of the Free. 

We are sons of heroes past and gone 
And the name is naught to us, 
And we'll uphold the Sacred Cause 
Their valor brought to us. 

We were proud of old Company D, 
With her traditions and her fame ; 
But we'll stand by F, the name we have. 
And make her just the same. 

And when on the battle field we stand 
And face bayonet, shells and ball, 
We'll remember then our fighting sires, 
And Old Glory over all. 

Camp Sevier, S. C, October 15, 1917. 
50 



THE ENGINEERS 

When I was in the Infantry 
I had one grand good time, 
But now I'm in the Engineers 
And I'm in the mud and slime. 

We have ten thousand things to do 
And we never can get done, 
We have to work both night and day 
And it certainly is no fun. 

We have to dig the trenches. 
And we'll have to build the boat 
We'll use when we go over 
To get the German's goat. 

We have to hike and do our drill 
Just like we used to do, 
And a thousand other things on hand 
When the Infantry is through. 

We have to build the target buts 
And carry heavy loads ; 
In fact just anything at all 
Down to making public roads. 

We do what horses ovight to do 
And certainly it is true, 
We do a thousand different things 
Of thing's both old and new. 

We have to clean our rifles. 
And we have to sweep the streets ; 
We have to build the bridges 
And w^e have to cook our eats. 
51 



We have to stay in army tents 
Without a bit of heat, 
And that's the toughest thing of all 
And its almost got us beat. 

We have to do our cook's police, 
Our guard and other things. 
But we don't give a single darn; 
No, certainly not, by Jings ! 

For we are really patriotic 

And everything we do 

We feel is for our Uncle Sam 

And the Old Red, White and Blue. 

And as for our Uncle's Engineers 
We are glad we're there to stay. 
For we had rather be an Engineer 
Than a Doughboy, any day. 

And we wouldn't near change places 
With anyone on earth 
For we are fighting for our country, 
The land that gave us birth. 

And you can bet your last red sou 
That as sure as you live 
Our Uncle Samuel will get 
Everything that we can give. 

And when you write your history 
You will write in future years 
The brightest page you'll have to write 
Will be about the Engineers. 

Note — ^Written at Camp Sevier, S. C, upon my Company- 
being transferred into the 105th Engineer Regiment. 

52 



WHEN WILL I GET A PAYDAY? 

Payday, but no dough for me, 

I salute the man who has the dough. 

When my name is called, 

But ah ! oh, no ; 

There is no mon 

For this son-of-a-gun. 

And why is it 

That I can't git 

Just a little bit 

To have some fun? 

They tell me that my Uncle 

Is as busy as can be. 

That when my name is called 

He cannot hear or see, 

And he will not let 

Me even get 

My fingers on the money 

Because 'twill be too funny 

And will never do for sonny 

For if he gets his dough he'll bet. 

Now I want to be a soldier 
And I'm doing very well 
Getting myself in shape 
To give the Kaiser hell. 
But without the mon 
It is no fun 
To work or drill 
Real hard until 
It gets old Bill 

And it's hard on this son-of-a-gun. 
53 



They tell me that I'll surely get 

Every bit that's kept behind, 

That my Uncle's eyesight's getting bad 

In fact he's almost blind, 

That he's all amaze 

And he's got his gaze 

Set on the Hun 

And not the mon 

Nor little son, 

And that's my Uncle's ways. 

Now my Uncle he is awful fiery 

And he will not let me kick 

And if I do I know I'll get 

A shovel and a pick 

And that's what keeps 

And gives the creeps 

To a man like me 

Because you see, 

It's Liberty 

That's got my Uncle's peeps. 

Payday, again is almost here 

And will it be the same 

Will I get some dough this time 

Whenever they call my name? 

Ah no, my lad ! 

Better call on Dad 

For nary a dime 

You'll get this time 

You've got a lime, 

For the payroll's just as bad. 

Note — Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, January 22^ 
1918. On account of not getting any pay for two pay days. 



64 



PART II. 

MISCELLANEOUS 

THE RECRUIT'S LAMENT 

(Apologies to the original Author) 
Oh, I used to be a farmer 
On my father's dear old place 
And I came to be a soldier 
For the glory of the race ; 
But it's only sweat and struggle 
And I wonder what^s the harm 
For wishing the Lord Almighty 
I was back upon the farm. 

For it's bugle tootin' mornings, 
And it's bugle tootin' night 
And the bugle toots me up 
A way before daylight ; 
And it's soakin' when it's rainin' 
And it's sizzlin in the sun 
And this squad's right, kind of drillin' 
Is not a bit of fun. 
And they said 'twas all for glory 
My good gracious ! how they lied ; 
Told us how us heroes 
Would be buried if we died ; 
But it's only push and hustle 
Like a nigger in the mud 
When the rain comes down in torrents 
Like it must have in the flood. 
55 



I don't like these old Cantonments, 
Don't think much of them at all 
And I hope they'll end the war up 
'Gainst the comin' of the fall ; 
For I don't mind the bullets 
They're the least of all the harm 
But when it comes to diggin 
I can do that on the farm. 



MUD 



Oh, the mud, the mud, the dirty mud, 
The sticky, slimy, slippery mud, 
The elastic mud, within, without 
The dad gum mud, that's all about. 

The mud, the mud, the oozy mud, 
The red, the black, the stinking mud, 
It's in the fields, it's on the streets 
And everywhere you go it meets 

The foot of man, the foot of beast. 
The infernal mud's from west to east, 
From north to south and on and on 
When will this blasted mud be gone? 

I'm in the mud when I go outside 
The mud that will not be denied. 
The mud that gets so soft, by heck; 
You sink down in it to your neck. 

This mud's so sticky and so stout 
When I get in I can't get out. 
When I go out I can't get in 
No matter where the deuce I've been. 
56 



The mud is hanging to my feet, 
It's in my mouth when e'er I eat, 
It's on my hands and on my head, 
It's on my face and in my bed. 

It's mud, just mud, a sea of mud, 
I'm afraid it's getting in my blood; 
The earth to a sea of mud has grew 
I wonder if heaven is muddy too. 

Now what are we ever going to do 
For we're in the mud and can't get through. 
Dear old Sol please show your face 
And run this dad blamed mud a race. 

Note — For Greenville Daily News, Greenville, S. C, Feb- 
ruary, 1918. Written when the mud was so bad we could 
hardly get out to do our necessary training. 



IT'S 'ELL ON THE RANK AND FILE 

When the boys went forth in ninety-eight 
To the queen of the antilles 
I w^as with the good old Hornets Nest 
And was proud, sir, if you please. 

Again I donned my uniform, 

And in the year nineteen and three 

I got my Buzzard in my hand 

And from the rank and file was free. 

I have done my bit in Cuba 
And on a far JPacific isle ; 
But now I'm down in Greenville 
And it's 'ell on the rank and file. 
57 



Why a soldier isn't anything 
Since this bloomin' war began, 
While before the war he was some joy 
To some good American. 

Has got me all bamboozled 
And I'm guessing all the while 
Just why it is that is must be 
Always 'ell on the rank and file. 

And now I'm in Charlotte 
To see my wife and child, 
But still dear friends it's ditto 
Always 'ell on the rank and file. 

My Uncle Samuel's busy now 
A tryin' to keep house. 
And he's so tarnation busy 
He can't furnish me a blouse. 

Now I'm not kickin' 'bout the goods 
The quality or st3de, 
But I can't get a blouse to wear 
And it's 'ell on the rank and file. 

For I meet a blasted Provo 
Most everywhere I go; 
And if my blouse is missing 
It'll go hard wnth poor old bo. 

But that's their orders, and of course 
I'd like to be in style 
And have a good warm blouse to wear 
For it's 'ell on the rank and file. 

Now it is very queer to me 
And a very solemn thought 
That I must wear an army blouse 
When it's something I haven't got. 
58 



Whose fault it is, I do not know, 
That it has got to be the style 
That I must wear this army blouse 
And it's 'ell on the rank and file. 

Now because I haven't got a blouse 
I am halted on the street, 
I am halted in the alley ways, 
And on every Provo's beat. 

Of course I know it's orders 
And has got to be the style. 
But this old town is home to me 
And it's 'ell on the rank and file. 

Charlotte, N. C, October 10, 1917. 

Note — I was in Charlotte on pass from Camp Sevier, S. 
C, when this was written. We were not equipped with 
blouses at this time, and tlie General in command at Camp 
Greene had issued orders that no one was allowed on the 
streets of Charlotte without wearing a blouse without a 
special pass. This worked a hardship on the soldiers who 
were not equipped with blouses, and at this time, the 
army was not anything like one-half clothed, or equipped. 



BREAD WILL WIN THE WAR 

W^e are in this w^ar to win it 
And we're going good and stout. 
And we know it's almost over 
For the bread is giving out. 

Raise your soldiers by the millions. 
Make your warships good and stout; 
But your efforts will be useless 
For the bread is giving out. 
59 



Make your cannon by the thousands 
Make your guns and aeroplanes, 
If you haven't got the foodstuffs 
All your work will be in vain. 

You can make ten million rifles, 
And machine guns that will spout 
But why go to all the trouble 
When your bread is giving out? 

Soldiers cannot eat the warships, 
Cannon doesn't make good bread 
And the aeroplanes won't nourish 
When from hunger you're half dead. 

Mass your men, mass your cannon. 
Have your warships all about, 
But this great war doesn't need you 
For the bread is giving out. 

All your little ones are hungry 
And starvation stalks about, 
And you cannot fight much longer 
For your bread is giving out. 

We have got the men and cannon 
And we have the ships and planes. 
And we have the bread and foodstuffs 
That will break old hunger's chains. 

That this war will soon be over 
We have not the slightest doubt, 
For the soldiers can't keep fighting 
When the bread is giving out. 

Note — For Trench and Camp, Camp Sevier, S. C, Feb- 
ruary 16, 1918, by request. 

60 



THE QUEEN CITY 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! For the Old North State, 
Hurrah ! for her people grand ; 
Hurrah ! for the city of the Hornets Nest 
Who for honor and justice stand. 

Yes we'll shout a thousand glad hurrahs 
And wish we could make it more, 
For every Sammie is welcome there 
And is welcome at every door. 

Hurrah ! for her mothers brave and true 
Who have sons who have gone away 
To uphold the cause of Liberty 
And drive the murdering Boche to bay. 

Hurrah ! for her daughters proud and fair, 
With hearts as true as steel, 
W^hose sweethearts now are marching on 
To make the German reel. 

Hurrah ! for all her people grand 
Who with all their main and might 
Are trying now w^th all their hearts 
To treat us Sammies right. 

Charlotte, N. C, October 1917. 

Note — Written while on pass to see my family. Noticing 
the great difference in the way that Charlotte people 
treated the soldiers stationed at Camp Greene, to the way 
we were treated at Camp Sevier, S. C., I wrote the above 
poem to show my appreciation for what they were doing. 



WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO BE A HORNET? 

Wouldn't you like to be a Hornet 
And go with Company D, 
And have your friends for comrades 
When you go across the sea? 
61 



You may not think you need them 
Just at the present time 
But you'll long and pray to see them 
When you're in the mud and slime. 

When shells are bursting o'er 
And your nerves are giving out 
It w^ill be a mighty blessing 
To have your friends about. 

When your tongue is parched and thirsty, 
When your life is near the end 
You'll need your friends for comrades, 
'Tis then you'll need a friend. 

Don't you v^^ant to be a Hornet 
Even though a little late, 
They didn't shirk their duty 
In the war of ninety-eight. 

We didn't meet the Don of course. 
But we'll tell you if you please, 
We stood the test, the acid test. 
Bad rations and disease. 

Don't you v^ant to be a Hornet 
And stand up like the rest, 
And meet the German like a man 
With the brave old Hornets Nest? 

I am proud to be a Hornet 
And I'm glad that I'm not late. 
And I'm proud that I was with them 
In the war of ninety-eight. 

Yes we'd be glad to have you 
As our friends and comrades dear ; 
The friends we've known around our homes, 
The men who have no fear. 
62 



Oh ! we'd be proud to have you 
When we go across the foam, 
And if we fell in battle 
You would send our message home. 

Come, go with your friends as comrades, 
You are welcome w^ith the rest, 
To be a Tar Heel Volunteer 
In the good old Hornets Nest. 

Charlotte, N. C, June, 1917. 

Note — Written to stimulate recruiting, while trying to 
recruit Company D (Hornets Nest Riflemen), to war 
strength. 



th:e hornets nest 

I am not brave, nor even strong, 
But one thing I can prove 
I am not waiting on the Draft 
To get me on the move. 

I may be yellow streaked. 
May have w^hite liver, too; 
But this I know, I love my Flag, 
The dear Red, White and Blue. 

I am not waiting on the Draft 
Because Fm needed now, 
I take my all and lay it down 
And before Old Glory bow. 

And in after years w^hen I am old 
And my hair is silvery white, 
I can look back w^ith pleasure 
And the spot in life most bright. 
63 



Will be the thought when Columbia called 

I did not shrink with fear, 

But gave myself, my life, my all, 

A Tar Heel Volunteer. 

And now Vm proud, can't help but be 
Because I'm with the best, 
For there never was a shirker 
In the brave old Hornets Nest. 

Charlotte, N. C, June, 1917. 

Note — Written for the purpose of stimulating recruiting, 
while trying to recruit Company D (Hornets Neat Rifle- 
men), to war strength. 



MY GOOGOO GIRL 

(With apologies to Kipling in Mandalay) 

By the moss grown church at Niac, 
Looking lazily at the sea, 
There's a googoo girl a sitting 
And I know she longs for me. 

The wind blows through the palm trees 
And I think I hear her say, 
Come you back, you Americano, 
Come you back to me today. 

Her petticoat is yellow, 
Her camissa, it is green, 
And her nombre is Teresa, 
My chocolate colored queen. 

I see her a smoking 
An evergreen cheroot, 
And wasting dainty kisses, 
On a dirty nigger's snoot. 
64 



When the mist was on the ricefields 
And the shadows coming slow, 
She would get her little banjo 
And sing so soft and low. 

With her arms around my shoulders 
And her cheeks pressed close to mine. 
We used to watch the warships 
Sailing up Cavite line. 

But I have left it all behind me 
And it's miles and miles away. 
And there ain't no mobiles running 
From here to Niac Bay. 

And I'm learning in my old home 
What the three-year soldiers say, 
When you hear the East a calling 
You cannot stay away. 

I am sick of wasting leather 
On these gritty paving stones 
And the blasted sleet and drizzle 
Wakes the fever in my bones. 

Ship me somewhere west of Frisco 
Where the best is like the worst, 
And there ain't no ten commandments 
And a man can raise a thirst. 

For the Niac bells are ringing 
And 'tis there that I would be 
With my Googoo girl at sunset 
Gazing lazily at the sea. 

Manila, P. I., 1903. 
65 



TO MY BROTHER ON HIS MARRIAGE 

We send you warmest greetings 
And may God bless your life, 
And make a happy husband 
And a true and loving wife. 

May you ever prosper 

And may you ever be 

As happy as the one 

Who writes these lines to thee. 

You must have thorns with roses 
And you will find that in this life 
If you expect the thorns with roses 
You wuU be happy as man and wife. 

But if you expect to gather roses 
And find no thorns between 
You will find that life's a failure 
And then the sad refrain. 

Oh, where are all life's roses, 

Oh, life, where is the joy 

That was strewn beside my pathway 

When I was a happy boy? 

Your roses are faded and withered 
And your joy has turned to pain, 
And you have no place that others 
May find a place to reign. 

But I pray that God may bless you, 
That your roses never fade ; 
That in life you'll have all sunshine 
And never any shade. 



May your life be one of pleasure 
May your virtues ever shine, 
This is all the joy I wish you; 
Be your wife as good as mine. 

Atlanta, Ga., 1907. 



IN MEMORY OF A SCHOOLMATE 

In a few more months, dear friend, 

I will sail across the foam. 

And will see the friends of boyhood's day 

And my good old country home. 

My heart is light today, dear. 

My soul is gay and bright, 

For sweet memories come rebounding 

And my sorrows take to flight. 

As I read your sweetest missive 
And glance o'er it again, 
A fairy's wand makes life grow bright 
And there's no place left for pain. 

As I think of you today, dear friend, 
Although so far away 
The earth is gay and bright 
And my night is turned to day. 

Your letter carries back my mind 
To my home beyond the sea 
Where mother dear is sitting 
And watching now for me. 

I heard the mailman*s lonely tread 
As it echoed o'er the lea. 
And as I sat and listened 
He called mail out for me. 
67 



It was a schoolmate's letter 
From a land beyond the foam 
And it brought to me sweet memories 
Of my schoolmates and my home. 

Please write another letter 
That will bring to me the joy 
That your other letter brought 
To a sad and lonely boy. 

If you only knew the pleasure 
That your letter brought to me 
You would write a letter every day 
To your friend beyond the sea. 

Old Bethel's bells are ringing 
And 'tis there that I would be 
With the friends of childhood's day 
Who are waiting there for me. 

Note — Written while a soldier, in the Philippine Islanda 
in 1903, on account of receiving a letter from one of my 
schoolmates whom I thought a great deal of. 



THOUGHTS OF CHILDHOOD 

Oh, how well we all remember 
Days we spent in childhood's bliss, 
Of the barefoot days in springtime 
And our dear old mother's kiss. 

Of the growing fields of cotton 
As they bloomed all snowy white. 
Of the foot tub and the water 
As we washed our feet at night. 
68 



Of the old spring by the meadow 
With its sparkling fountain cool 
And the old gourd hanging by it, 
Idly hanging by the pool. 

Of the mock-bird in the orchard, 
Warbling out his silvery note. 
Sitting there in kingly splendor 
Imitating every throat. 

Of the katydid and locust 
As they sang in hot July 
When the katydid was singing 
We all knew that frost was nigh. 

When we heard the locust singing 
In the summer's day so hot, 
We were looking for fair weather 
When the weather-man was not. 

Of the golden waving wheat-fields 
Shining like a lake of gold, 
Ah ! the thoughts of happy childhood 
Take us back to days of old. 

As we sat still in the twilight 
Listening to the whip-poor-will 
We would watch the lightning playing 
In the clouds beyond the hill. 

We would watch each flash of lightning 
As it plaj^ed across the sky. 
And we'd wonder if the storm-cloud 
Could come faster if 'twould try. 

And we'd wonder in the morning 
If we'd have the corn to hoe ; 
If it rained while we were sleeping 
Whether to the creek we'd go. 



And when waking in the morning 
(Seeing that it rained that night) 
We would go and dig the fish-worms 
For we knew the fish would bite. 

Oh, how gladly did we dig them, 
Dig these little worms for bait, 
Get an old tin can, and put them 
There to squirm around and wait. 

*Till a turtle or a craw-fish 
Nimbly eased the baited hook. 
Of its precious tempting dinner 
For the minnows in the brook. 

And at night when we were sleepy 
Mother putting us to bed, 
And her voice so gently asking 
If our prayers had yet been said. 

Oh, how dearly I remember 
My old mother, as she'd pray 
With me kneeling there beside her 
Teaching me these words to say : 

Now I lay me down to sleep 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep. 
Kneeling there beside my mother 
With no other thought but sleep. 

And the thoughts of dear old mother 
The childish prayers she learned to me 
Always gives me thoughts of heaven 
And I hope 'twill always be. 

'Though I stray from heaven's pathway 
'Though my mother then be dead 
I can ne'er forget the prayers 
That she learned me at my bed. 
70 



And I hope while I am living 
That ril ne'er forget the place, 
Where I learned to say My Muvver ; 
Looking up into her face. 

And I'm sure when I'm straying 
From the path my Savior trod, 
That the memory of my mother 
Will always lead me back to God. 

And I hope that I'll remember 
All my mother taught to me 
As she taught me by my bed-side 
With my head upon her knee. 

Charlotte, N. C, 1917. 



"THE NEGRO IN THE WAR" 

This book is written and dedicated to all soldiers, 
of all colors ; and is a tribute to the Negro soldier^ 
just as much so as to the white soldier. There is no 
question but that the negro race performed one of 
the most unselfish and beautiful acts of heroism 
in all history, in the war just ended, by supporting 
their Government with their good-will, energy, de- 
votion, money, substance and their lives; "so freely 
and lavishly given to uphold the hands of their Gov- 
ernment, and help to win the greatest and most co- 
lossal war in human history; to help to make free, 
peoples and nations ; who at the time w^ere compar- 
atively as free as themselves" without murmuring, 
asking no reward and expecting none, except the 
reward of good conscience which comes to all who 
do their whole duty, to their fellow men, their coun- 
txy and their God. 

History records no traitor among the negro race, 
71 



which is as great a tribute as is possible to pay 
them ; and is sufficient proof that the negro is a 
loyal, patriotic citizen and a true and faithful friend. 

There are some foolish, irresponsible, ignorant 
people who contend that the negro is an inferior be- 
ing, the fact there never has been a traitor among 
the negro race, together with such men of the race, 
as Fred Douglass, Booker T. Washington and oth- 
ers, just as intelligent, progressive and patriotic as 
the men of any race, is ample proof of the fallacy of 
such foolish assertions. 

The part the negro played in the war just ended 
is ample proof that he is just as patriotic, equally 
as brave a soldier and fully as self-sacrificing as his 
white comrade, and disposes of forever the undue, 
unmerited idea "of some foolish people" that the 
negro is an inferior being. 

Such men as Bishop George W. Clinton, Thad L. 
Tate, Henry Wearn and many others of the race 
in our own city, fully as intelligent, progressive and 
patriotic as any citizens of the city is sufficient evi- 
dence of what the negro is capable of accomplish- 
ing, if given the proper opportunity and encourage- 
ment. 

I for one am patriotic enough to say that I have 
found the negro to be a loyal and patriotic citizen 
and a true and faithful friend, and fully deserving of 
all the confidence we can bestow upon him as a race 
and a people. 

That the negro fully performed his every duty in 
the present war is without question and nothing we 
can sa)^ or do, can detract from or take away the 
imperishable honor and glory he has won for his 
race by his heroic acts and deeds of self-sacrifice on 
the fields of battle, fighting by the side of his white 
comrades. 

That the negro has not all the privileges he de- 
serves, no sane, fairminded person will contend; 
72 



that he proved himself just as patriotic, self-sacrific- 
ing and brave at home and on the battle fields, as 
his white comrades, there is no one who will try 
to evade or deny ; that being true the negro deserves 
more privileges; justice in the courts; justice in 
every way ; we must meet this issue squarely, fairly, 
for it is an issue, a great issue, and must be dis- 
posed of with justice to all peoples and all races 
concerned. 

Very truly yours, 

THE AUTHOR 



TO MY NEGRO FRIENDS 

Be proud ye lowly black man 
Though you were not built for grace 
There never was a traitor 
Among the Negro race. 

When your country needed soldiers 
You did not shrink with fear. 
But proudly stepped into the line 
And bravely answered. Here. 

On bloodstained fields in far off France 
Your courage had its test, 
And every Negro soldier there 
Proved equal to the best. 

And when the war is ended 
And you come marching back 
We will love you as we ought to 
Even though your skin is black. 

Fort Porter, Buffalo, N. Y., Aug. 30, 1918. 

Note — ^Written while a patient in the hospital at this 
place. 

73 



THE HORNET YELL 

Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Re, 

We're the bo3^s of Company D, 

Hip La, Hurrah ! we're of the best. 

The boys of the good old Hornets Nest. 

Hip, Hip, Hurrah, Hip, La Hooray! 

Three cheers for our Captain, brave old John A. 

Hip, Hip, Hurrah ! away with snarles, 

Three cheers for good old Billie Charles. 

Hip, La, Hurrah ! you may feather and tar us 

But we'll still stand by Lieutenant Morris. 

Hip, La, Hooray ! we're soon away 

Across the ocean blue ; 

We're a happy band and all will stand 

And to our land be true. 

And when we come back to this old shack 

Our friends will be there to meet us, 

And bet your boots 'twill not be hoots 

You'll hear when ere they greet us. 

Charlotte, N. C, July, 1917. 

Note — Written to stimulate recruiting while trying to 
recruit Company D (Hornets Nest Riflemen), to war 
strength. 



THE UMPIRE'S BROOM 

When you are at a ball game at the park 
You may holler, squeal or fume. 
But be very, very careful. 
Don't touch the umpire's broom. 

That broom of his is sacred. 
It is worth its weight in gold ; 
It is a friend in need, a friend indeed; 
To our umpire brave and bold. 
74 



You may call him names, spit in his face 
And tell him of his doom ; 
But be very careful, friend of mine, 
Don't touch the umpire's broom. 

If you ever touch this sacred thing 
Better put it back in place ; 
For if you don't the chances are 
You will likely have a race. 

And if v^e lose the pennant, 
In the darkness there will loom 
The image of this little pet. 
The umpire's old whisk broom. 

The boys get mad and fuss and fume, 
And at times get very cross 
They start a kick, try to make it stick. 
But they find the umpire's boss. 

I can see the secret of it all 

In letters large and bright, 

You must let the umpire's broom alone 

If you want to win the fight. 

Charlotte, N. C, 1907. 

Note — Written when Lave Cross was managing the Hor- 
nets, and it seemed they had a chance for the pennant at 
this time. 

One of the umpires who called games at Latta Park had 
a whiskbroom he used in brushing off the home plate, and 
when he would get worried at the players for disputing his 
decisions, he would grab this broom and brush the plate 
off whether it needed brushing or not, and this always 
ended the controversy. 



75 



TIGER HUNTING IN CHARLOTTE 

Of all the jokes you ever heard 
This tiger hunting's best; 
They catch the little tigers 
But let the big ones rest. 

Look out you dirty niggers 
And all you white trash, too; 
They are after little tigers 
And are hunting now for you. 

But the very largest tigers 
From the hunters here are free ; 
They hunt the little tiger 
'Till they run him up a tree. 

This tiger hunting's getting 
To be a first class joke ; 
They pass by all the large ones 
And catch the little bloke. 

The best place in the city 
To set a tiger snare 
Why any one can tell you ; 
It is Independence Square. 

Now of course these gallant hunters 
Want to live and not to die ; 
So they pass by all the large ones, 
But the small ones are their pie. 

Why the greatest tigers living ; 
Even children knows their lair ; 
They are all about the corners 
Of Independence Square. 
76 



Now these gallant tiger hunters 
Pass the Square and lift their hats, 
They could never see a tiger now; 
For they are as blind as owls and bats. 

They have no time to hunt them 
These tigers grand you know; 
And if they'd really catch one 
'Twould most break up the show. 

Just watch these tigers grinning, 
These tigers fierce and fair ; 
They show their fangs to every one 
On Independence Square. 

For it is understood by every one 
Down to dogs and pussy cats. 
When the tiger hunters reach the Square 
They all go blind as bats. 

Charlotte, N. C, 1908. 

Note — Written on account of the Blind Tigers, doing an 
almost open business in Charlotte at this time. Practically 
all the drug stores sold whiskey illegally at this time. 



MY NERVES 

You may talk about your nightmares. 
Your hobgoblins and your ghosts. 
But you'll never know the mysteries 
That my nervous system boasts. 

It makes my blood go rushing 
Like a torrent through my heart, 
Just as I'm dozing off to sleep 
To rouse me with a start. 
77 



It makes me hear some awful sounds 
When my heartstrings break away, 
Then I know my heart is tore in two 
And will have no more to say. 

Of course Vm dead, Fm bound to be 
For my heart has stopped I know, 
Then I will lie and try to die 
But my pulse keeps on the go. 

Why I did not die just then 
Is more than I can tell 
But I cannot live so very long, 
I am sure I can't get well. 

But the doctor says it's all a bluff. 
And tells me if I try 
My very best to be a corpse 
That still I cannot die. 

Now I suppose it is a fact 
That my nerves are all awry 
For I have done my very best 
And still I cannot die. 

I'm ashamed to tell the honest truth 
But I guess it's only right, 
I have tried so many times to die 
That I really believe it's fright. 

Note — Written while in St. Joseph's Infirmary, Atlanta, 
Ga., in 1907, while being treated for a nervous trouble. 



IN MEMORY OF MY WIFE 

Why is life more dear to me 
Than it ever was before? 
'Tis because I have some one to love 
And some one to adore. 
78 



Some one to soothe my aching brow 
When fever's raging high, 
Some one to laugh when e'er I laugh 
And cry when e'er I cry. 

Some one to share my pleasures 
My sorrows, weals and woes, 
Some one to love me dearly, 
Some one to hate my foes. 

Some one to share life's every pain 
And to share its every joy; 
How could I help being happier now 
Than wen I was a boy? 

And may God bless and keep us 

Both now and ever more, 

That we may meet and loved ones greet 

On that bright Eternal Shore. 

That is why my life is dearer 
Than it ever was before 
'Tis because I have a help mate 
To worship and adore. 

Note — Written just after my marriage. 



THE BUCKEYE AND THE CRACKER 

Who is it that makes our fun, 
Who is it that spends their mon? 

Ask anyone, you'll find a backer 

It's the Buckeye and the Georgia cracker. 

Red Hazlett and Clarence Blume 
Are the life of number three squadroon. 
79 



Thi.-y are in the army as a packer 
This Buckeye and this Georgia cracker. 

When the drills are over, duty done, 
Blume and Hazlett are out for fun. 

When they find a man in his bunk asleep 
They immediately toward him start to creep. 

And whether he is asleep or drunk 
They turn him clean out of his bunk. 

When other lads are feeling blue 
These two boys turn up anew. 

They are full of life, like all young boys 
And share alike their woes and joys. 

Soon with these dear friends Fll part 
But still will keep them in my heart. 

And now dear friends, I'll be the backer. 
Adieu to Buckeye and the Cracker. 

Manila, Philippine Islands, June, 1903. 

Note — Written upon my being discharged form the army; 
in memory of two very dear comrades. 



A HITCH IN HELL 

I am sitting here a thinking 
Of the things I've left behind. 
And I hate to put on paper 
What's running through my mind. 

I've dug a million trenches 
And I've cleared ten miles of ground. 
And a meaner job this side of hell 
I am sure cannot be found. 



But there is some consolation, 
Listen to the tale I tell, 
When I die I am bound for heaven 
For I've done my bit in hell. 

I've built a thousand kitchens 
For the cooks to stew^ the beans; 
I've been on guard ten thousand times 
And have helped to build latrines. 

I've washed a million messkits, 
I've peeled ten million spuds, 
IVe made ten thousand blanket rolls 
And I've washed my dirty duds. 

There is lots of other things I've done, 
But Fm not going to tell ; 
But I'll do my bit in heaven 
For I have done my bit in hell. 

When St. Peter bids me welcome, 
And the bands begin to play 
I'll draw a million canteen checks 
To pass the time away. 



Note — I am re-writing this, so that it will do for publica- 
tion. The original was somewhat too drastic for publica- 
tion. The author of the original is unknown, but it is sup- 
posed to have ])een written by some soldier on the Bor- 
der in 1916. The soldier is almost compelled to kick, and 
this is written to show how absurd some of his kicks really 
are. After all is said, the soldiers' kicks as a rule do not 
amount to anything, and he quickly resents anything of 
like nature from an outsider, or civilian. 

81 



THOUGHTS OF DIXIE 

(To my Wife) 

When it's morning up at Porter 
And the lake begins to shine, 
Then my thoughts go back to Dixie 
And my heart begins to pine. 

For the girl I left in Dixie 
For the dear old home town dew, 
And the joy I left behind me. 
Love, I'm coming back to you. 

When it's night time here at Porter 
And the zephyr's gently blow, 
And the stars begin to twinkle 
With a brilliant after-glow — 

Then my thoughts go back to Dixie 
To you dear heart so true, 
When it's night time here at Porter, 
Love, my thoughts go back to you. 

Wlien it's noonday up at Porter 
And the sun is shining bright 
On the waters of Lake Erie 
Still my heart cannot be light. 

For my thoughts are dowm in Dixie 
Of thee, dear land so true. 
Oh, the home town bells are ringing. 
Love, I'm coming back to you. 

Fort Porter, Buffalo, N. Y., Aug. 19, 1918. 
82 



WHY I HATE A SPOON 

When they put me in a Nut Ward ; 
They said, crazy as a loon 
They took all my belongings 
And handed me a spoon. 

With a spoon I eat SlumguUion 
And cut my meat and bread, 
Oh, I'll hate a spoon, both late and soon 
Till the day that I am dead. 

Why can't I have a knife or fork 
" 'Twould be a blessed boon," 
But, Oh, you nut, you're in the rut 
And we'll feed you with a spoon. 

Oh, spoon, spoon, spoon ! 

I hope to very soon 

Forget the name. Oh, very shame 

The accursed Nut Ward Spoon. 

Even though my brain has been astray 
And sadly gone a'roam 
I will surely throw the spoons away 
Whenever I get home. 

So wifey, dear, do not forget 
For home I'm coming soon. 
And of all the names on earth I hate 
'Tis spoon, spoon, spoon, spoon. 

Wifey, dear, hide all the spoons, 
Hide everyone away, 
For if I find a spoon about 
I surely will not stay. 

Fort Porter, Buffalo, N. Y., Aug. 18, 1918. 

Note — We were not allowed anything but a spoon to eat 
our meals with on account of having many patients who 
were mentally wrong in this hospital, and to have allowed 
patients to have used knives and forks, etc., would have 
been dangerous. 

83 



MY UNCLE SAMUEL 

My Uncle Samuel gently said, 
My son come unto me 
Old Glory needs her faithful sons 
To uphold our Liberty. 

We owe a debt to France, my son, 
A debt for our Liberty, 
Come help to pay our debt to France 
*Neath the banner of the free. 

I bade my wife and friends adieu 
And shouldered pack and gun. 
Took the burden on myself 
To go gunning for the Hun. 

But think of where I am today. 
What my Uncle did to me, 
He slammed me in a nut ward 
'Neath the banner of the free. 

First Letter — 
He wrote my wife a letter 
And this is what it said, 
Your husband cannot fight the Hun 
For he's got wheels in his head. 

I have done my best to cure him 
But it seems there is no chance, 
So I will keep him in a nut ward 
While his comrades go to France. 

It will be no burden to him 
For he is crazy as a loon 
He doesn't know the difference 
*Twixt morning, night or noon. 
84 



Second letter — 

Dear Madam F , I am getting old 

And I have so much to do 
It seems I made a big mistake 
I have discovered something nev^. 

Your husband is not nutty, 
In fact he is very bright, 
And I v^ill have to use him 
For I need men nov^ to fight. 

Of course I am very sorry 
But I know you w^ill not mind 
As I cannot see so very good, 
In fact I'm almost blind. 

And though I thought him nutty 
I can see now^ very well 
That he is just the type of man 
To give the German hell. 

And though you need him badly 
I cannot consider that ; 
I have him, and I'll keep him 
Just pin that in your hat. 

Fort Porter, Buffalo, N. Y., Aug. 21, 1918. 

Note — Written after the Hospital Board had found that 
I was sane, and had meant to give me domestic duty. 



FOR MY FLAG 

Although I've done my very best 
To help to make men free. 
My Uncle Samuel kicked me out 
And this is what he said to me. 
85 



My son, I am very sorry, 
But you cannot earn your bread. 
Your soldier days are over. 
You've got wheels in your head. 

But I know better, and although 
My soldier days are through ; 
I love my flag, the dear old rag, 
The old Red, White and Blue. 

And if my Uncle ever needs me 
On land, sea, or in the air, 
I will help to hoist Old Glory high 
And keep her waving there. 

Very truly yours, 

LUTHER A. FINK, 

Ex-Master Engineer, 105th Engineer Reg- 
iment, 30th Division, United States Na- 
tional Guard. 



ARMY SLANG; WORDS AND PHRASES 

Chow — To eat ; anything to eat. 

Spuds — Potatoes. 

Angel Food — Rice. 

Punk — Bread. 

Sow-belly — Bacon. 

Salt-horse — Corned beef. 

Slum — Beef stew. 

Slumgullion — Beef stew. 

Plum Duff — Rice and raisin pudding. 

Belly Wash — Coffee or tea. 

K. P. — Kitchen, or cooks police. 

Cooks Police — Kitchen helpers. 

Kitchen Police — Kitchen helpers. 

Pack — To carry ; a soldier's equipment carried 

strapped to the shoulders. 
Hobs — Hob-nail shoes ; any kind of shoes. 
Tin Hat— Helmet. 
Gat — Revolver, or automatic pistol. 
Civie — Civilian. 

Civies — Civilians, or civilian clothes. 
Civie Clothes — Civilian clothes. 
Canteen — Army store. 
Post Exchange — Army store. 
Kale — Money. 
Long Green — ]\Ioney. 
Two Bits — Twenty-five cents. 
Put — Pay up. 
On Tick — On credit. 
Jaw Bone — Credit. 

Up the Pole — 'A pledge not to drink intoxicants. 
Bobtail — Dishonorable discharge. 
Walking Post — Doing Guard Duty. 
A Guard Post — A section, a guard covers, in doing 

guard duty. 

87 



Ditty Box — Small box a soldier uses to keep uten- 
sils in for cleaning clothing and equipment. 

Sentry — A soldier doing guard duty. 

Sentinel — A soldier doing guard duty. 

Provost Guard — Soldiers used to maintain order 
about camp, and in the cities nearby. 

A Sentry's Beat — Distance covered by a soldier do- 
ing guard duty. 

Retreat — Bugle call in evening, when colors are 
lowered and all duty ceases, except guard duty, 
etc. 

Reveille — Last bugle call in the morning before fall- 
ing in line for morning roll call. 

Taps — Last bugle call at night, summoning all sol- 
diers to bed. 

Mess Call — Bugle call, announcing meal time. 

Recall — Bugle call, announcing end of drill or labor, 
etc. 

Rush the Growler — To drink ; to become intoxi- 
cated. 

Bull — Bragadocia ; not true. 

Jane — A lewd woman. 

A Skirt — A woman. 

In Dutch— To get the ill will of. 

Cooler — Guard house. 

Jigger — Guard house. 

C. O. — Commanding officer. 

The Top — First Sergeant. 

Rookie — A recruit. 

The Lute— The lieutenant. 

Sarge — Sergeant. 

Corp — Corporal. 

Dough Boy — An infantryman. 

Saw Bones — An army doctor. 

Hitch — Term of, as of work, or guard duty. 

Hike — To walk, or march ; a long practice march. 

Wind-jammer — A trumpeter, or bugler. 



Sore-head — A grumbler. 

Dog-robber — Soldier who tries to stand in with the 

officers. 
Buck Private — A private soldier. 
A Buck — A private soldier. 
Mule Skinner — Soldier who drives a team, or works 

in a corral. 
Pill Roller — A soldier in the medical department. 
M. P. — Military police. 
Buzzard — Discharge. 
Ticket to Heaven — Discharge. 

French Leave — Absent without leave, or desertion, 
A. \\\ O. Ly. — Absent without leave, or authority. 
Fatigue Duty — Labor ; cleaning up around the 

camp. 
Bunk Fatigue — A rest on one's cot or bunk. 
Buck — To be antagonistic. 
Buck for Orderly — To give clothing and equipment 

an extra cleaning, when going on guard duty; 

the cleanest soldier is chosen for orderly, for the 

Colonel, for that term of guard duty. 
Old Guard Fatigue — Labor ; cleaning up about 

camp, the day after doing a term of guard duty. 
Old Soldier's Walk — A long sleep and rest on one's 

cot. 
Old Fogey — An old soldier ; a soldier old in the ser- 
vice. 
To Soldier — To do as little as one can, to not get a 

reprimand. 
Turning the Papers — To play poker, or cards. 
Stud Poker — Poker played with the first card ; face 

down. 
Draw Poker — A game of cards, generally played for 

money. 
Looking at the Hole Card — Playing stud poker. 
Rattle the Bones — To shoot; or play craps. 
Rolling the Bones — Playing craps. 
Shoot Craps — To play craps. 



Black Jack — A game of cards called, "The Army 
Game." 

Bogey — A five-year term in the army. 

Feather- Legged — Cowardly. 

White-Livered — Cowardly. 

Yellow Streaked — Cowardly. 

Cold Footed — Cowardly. 

Got No Guts — Cowardly. 

Got the Guts— Got the grit. 

Bighty — The hospital. 

Squirrel Factory — St. Elizabeth insane asylum- 
Lizzies — St. Elizabeth insane asylum. 

Squirrel Food — Foolish talk. 

Nutty — Foolish; insane. 

Nuts — Foolish ; insane. 

Loco — Foolish ; insane. 

Knocked Off — Killed in action. 

Make the Daisies Grow — Killed in action. 

Cooties — The old time body louse. 

Sniper — An expert rifleman. 

Hand Grenade — A small bomb, thrown by hand. 

Grenadier — Soldiers who throw hand grenades. 

Sapper — Men who dig trenches toward the enemy. 

Dug-out — A deep excavation, dug for shelter from 
high explosive shells and shrapnel. 

Over the Top — Going out of the trenches into bat- 
tle, but latterly, going into battle. 

Machine Gun Nest — A heavy concentration of ma- 
chine guns in one locality. 

Strafe—To kill. 

Home Fires — Lo3^alty at home to the soldier at the 
front ; love, devotion ; pleasant memories. 

Trench Mortar — A short heavy cannon used to 
throw shells from one trench in to another. 

Mine Thrower — A machine used to throw heavy 
charges a short distance. 

Kamerad — Comrade ; friend. 
90 



Central Empires — Germany, Austria-Hungary, 
Bulgaria and Turkey. 

Entente — England, France and Russia ; but since 
the beginning of the war, all countries arrayed 
against the Central Empires. 

Teutonic Nations — Meaning the countries of Ger- 
many and Austria-Hungary ; largely used in 
speaking of the Central Empires since the war. 

Hohenzollern — The Emperor of Germany ; succes- 
sion to the throne of Germany. 

Hohenzollern Dynasty — The same as Hohenzol- 
lern. 

Prussia — Germany proper. 

Prussians — Natives of Germany. 

The Dual Monarchy — Austria-Hungary. 

Barrage — An intense artillery bombardment, the 
shells falling in a line. 

Creeping Barrage — Intense artillery bombardment, 
the guns all firing at the same angle, or elevation, 
making the shells fall in a line, and the elevation 
gradually increased or decreased, as the case 
might be, making the shells fall in a line either 
nearer or farther away, so that troops can follow 
near where the shells are falling, and be protected 
from the enemy. 

Big Berthas — Large German cannon ; the name be- 
ing derived from Bertha Krupp, owner of the 
Krupp Gun Works, in Essen, Germany. 

Tommy — An English soldier. 

Poilou — ^A French soldier, meaning unshaven. 

Yank — An American soldier. 

Sammy — The name given the first Americans sol- 
diers who landed in France. 

Bosche — German soldier, or civilian. 

Fritzie — German soldier or civilian. 

Hun — German or Austrian soldier or civilian, but 
truly a Prussian soldier. 
91 



No-Man's Land — Land in dispute between the en- 
emy and attacking army. 

Liquid Fire — A gaseous fluid projected from a con- 
tainer, carried on the back through a hose, and 
ignited at the end of the hose by an electric ig- 
niter. 

Teuton — A German soldier, or civilian, but largely 
used in speaking of the peoples of any of the Cen- 
tral Empires. 

Teutonic — German, or Hungarian, but truly, the 
Hun. 

The Bear — Russian soldiers, or people or the Rus- 
sian Nation. 

The Slavs — The Russians. 

Little Father — The Czar of Russia. 

Hungarians — Natives of Hungary — not Huns. 

Hapsburg — The Emperor of Austria-Hungary ; suc- 
cession to the throne of Austria-Hungary. 

Hapsburg Dynasty — Same as Hapsburg. 

Anglo-French — English and French. 

Anglo-Americans — English and Americans. 

Franco-Americans — French and Americans. 

The British Empire — England, Ireland, Scotland 
and Wales, and the colonies. 

Great Britain — Same as British Empire. 

England — Same as British Empire. 

Brittania — The Flag of the British Empire. 

Britain — Great Britain. 

The Sick Man of Europe — Turkey. 

The Balkan States — Servia, Montenegro, Bulgaria, 
Roumania, and Greece. 

Dardanelles — The narrow strip of water, including 
the Sea of Marmora, connecting the Mediterra- 
nean and Black seas, and separating Europe from 
Asia. 

Bosphorus — Same as Dardanelles. 
92 



RANK OF SOLDIERS IN THE ARMY 

The rank of each soldier is given in order : 

Private, 1st Class Private, Corporal, Sergeant, 
Supply Sergeant, Mess Sergeant, 1st Class Sergeant, 
1st Sergeant, Sergeant Major, Regimental Supply- 
Sergeant, Regimental Commissary Sergeant, Mas- 
ter Sergeant, Master Electrician, Master Engineer, 
2nd Lieutenant, 1st Lieutenant, Captain, Major, 
Lieutenant Colonel, Colonel, Brigadier General, Ma- 
jor General, Lieutenant General and General. 

Plain Sergeants are called line Sergeants, and all 
have the same rank. Supply Sergeants and Mess 
Sergeants have relatively the same rank as line Ser- 
geants, 1st Class Sergeants and 1st Sergeants have 
the same rank. Sergeant Majors, Regimental Sup- 
ply Sergeants and Regimental Commissary Ser- 
geants have relatively the same rank. Master Ser- 
geant, Master Electrician and Master Engineer are 
all relatively the same rank, either being as high a 
rank as an enlisted man can hold in the army. 

In the Medical Department the rank is as follows: 

Private, 1st Class Private, Ward Master, Cor- 
poral, Sergeant, 1st Class Sergeant and 1st Sergeant 
for enlisted men, and the same for officers as in the 
army. 

Enlisted men in the infantry can only have rank 
as high as 1st Sergeant ; in the Engineers as high as 
Master Engineer; in the Signal Corps, as high as 
Master Electrician; in the Quartermaster Depart- 
ment, as high as Master Sergeant. 

In the Artillery a Master Gunner ranks with Mas- 
ter Engineer ; in the Engineer Corps, all others rank 
as in the Infantry, with a possible exception or two 
among Non-Commissioned Officers. The rank of 
93 



all enlisted men and officers in the Cavalry is the 
same as in the Infantry. 

The rank of all enlisted men and officers is the 
same in the Marine Corps as in the Infantry, except 
they all rank a few grades higher in the Marine 
Corps than men of the same rank in the Infantry. 

All men in the Army or Marine Corps, ranking 
from 2nd Lieutenant to General, are commissioned 
officers. 

All men in the Army and Marine Corps, ranking 
from Corporal to Master Sergeant and Master En- 
gineer are Non-Commissioned officers. All men in 
the Army and Marine Corps, below the rank of 2nd 
Lieutenant, are enlisted men, from 2nd Lieutenant 
to General, are commissioned men, or officers. 

Band-master is the same relative rank as Master 
Engineer, etc. 

The following are the units in order of the organ- 
ization of the army, and by whom commanded : 
Squad, commanded by a Corporal ; Platoon, by a 
Sergeant or Lieutenant ; Company by a Captain ; 
Battalion, by a Major; Regiment by a Colonel; 
Brigade, by a Brigadier General ; Division, by a 
Brigadier or Major General ; Corps by a Major Gen- 
eral ; an Army, by a Major General, Lieutenant Gen- 
eral or General. 



94 



-'^'""t>. 




Ti'e^t rrri l?ou£h 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologiei 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVAT10 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724)779-2111 



